I wrestle continually with this. I write many pieces that aren’t shared anywhere. Right now, as I edit a book, I’m goofing around and writing two other novels. I’ll just write a few paragraphs in each every day. I don’t know what will ever happen with them. They don’t shame or embarrass me, but the tedious process of publishing deflates me. When I finish, they’ll probably be added to the stack of finished but unpublished material, as I write on, riding the muse and just trying to hold on.
So I struggle with this, not because I write for others, but because I write for me, and I’m growing calloused about what others think of my writing. Is it good or bad?
Does that matter?
by Destine Williams
Hey everybody, today I wanted to do another Day In the Life post. And for today’s topic, I wanted to shift our focus inward and talk about something that’s been on my mind a lot these days. It’s this idea of being more honest when we write, draw, compose, or just create well…anything.
On Where This All Came From…
You see I’ve always had this feeling before I had the words to express them, but it was finally cleared up for me when I heard about artists that have sketchbooks that are made for the sole purpose of showing people and separate sketchbooks that are just for them.
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